Chapter 3

NATHANIEL'S POV

I set the phone down and looked at Chloe, sprawled across the hotel bed in one of my shirts, and told myself that this didn't take anything away from Vivi.

Vivi was the first woman I'd ever wanted enough to earn. Five years of being careful with her, patient with her, married to a version of restraint that had never once come naturally. Chloe didn't require any of that. Chloe just wanted me.

I wasn't going to lose either one. I'd built an empire out of never choosing between things I wanted.

Chloe reached for me again, pouting at the interruption, and I was still deciding whether I had the energy for her mood when my phone rang. It was my assistant.

"Sir, I checked the hospital records like you asked. Mrs. Lowe wasn't with her friend yesterday. She went alone. To obstetrics."

I sat up.

"Obstetrics," I repeated, the word landing strange in my mouth.

"Yes, sir. Thought you'd want to know."

I looked at the door Vivi wasn't behind, three hundred miles away in a house I'd just told her to go ahead and leave for a few days, and felt something in my chest go very, very still.

Was she pregnant?

I ran the numbers again in my head — the fertility panel from before the wedding, the specialist's flat assessment: under one percent. That was the whole reason a fake certificate had felt safe in the first place. No chance of complications. No chance of anyone getting hurt by anything I did on the side.

Obstetrics didn't have to mean what I'd panicked and assumed. Women went in for all kinds of reasons. I told myself that until my pulse settled, and mostly believed it.

But the fact that she'd gone alone, and hidden it from me — that still sat wrong.

"I'm going home this weekend," I told Chloe. "Stay with my mother if you don't want to be alone. She'd love the company."

Chloe's mouth went thin. My mother lit up every time Chloe's name came up lately, more than she'd ever done for Vivi in five years, but that wasn't a comparison I wanted to make out loud.

"I'll listen," Chloe said, not listening at all. "But I really can't stand not seeing you for two whole days. Can I come with you?"

I should have said no. A year ago I would have said no without thinking about it.

"Fine. But you don't breathe a word to Vivi about us."

"I promise." She was already smiling like she'd won something. "Vivi's never suspected anything before. Why would this time be different?"

I didn't have a good answer for that. I chose not to look for one.

*****

VIVIAN'S POV

I'd just finished listing the last of the bags for sale when I heard the front door and looked up to find both of them standing in my entryway with a suitcase, like they'd been invited.

"Vivi." Chloe's voice, sugar-sweet, the same line she always used. "My parents are traveling again and I hate being alone. Can I stay a few days?"

I didn't answer. I just looked at her until she reached over and tugged Nathaniel's sleeve.

He stepped in front of her fast, all concern, like he could cover the gap with enough of it. "Baby, I'm back. Are you really not feeling well? My assistant mentioned you went to a check-up alone the other day, not with Lauren. If something's wrong, don't hide it from me."

Of course he'd had someone watching me.

I'd deleted the appointment records the moment I got home that first night — some instinct ahead of the rest of me already understanding what kind of man I'd married. Small mercy. There was nothing for his assistant to actually find.

"It's nothing. Just a cold." I kept my palms flat at my sides so he wouldn't see them shake. "I didn't want you worrying from three states away."

He held my gaze a beat too long, the way he used to when he was trying to memorize me, then shrugged out of his coat and handed it over.

Her perfume was on it. Faint, floral, unmistakable.

I hung it up anyway. My hands didn't shake this time.

Chloe wandered the living room complaining that Rosa wasn't around, that she didn't know how they'd eat, tossing it out like a question with exactly one acceptable answer.

"You've been home for days with no one cooking," Nathaniel said. "You must not have been eating properly."

"I manage."

"Turns out Vivi cooks," Chloe said, delighted, like she'd discovered a new feature on an appliance. "I wonder if I could have the honor. Your beef is always the best."

"Since you're both free," Nathaniel said, already reaching for the remote, "why don't you cook together. Vivi can show you a few things."

I looked at him for a long moment. Five years, and this was apparently what I'd become to him — a resource. Something you hand off to teach your mistress how to run a household neither of them would ever let me actually have.

"Give me a minute," I said, and went to the kitchen alone.

A plan began to take shape in my mind. I'd make sure you two had a meal you'd never forget!

When I came out, the coffee table was a disaster. Crumbs ground into the cushions, drink rings on the tablecloth I'd chosen myself two Christmases ago. Chloe stood to help carry plates and nearly tripped over her own feet, and Nathaniel caught her elbow like she was made of glass, his hand sliding automatically to her stomach to check.

"Careful. Just sit."

She stuck her tongue out at him, delighted to be fussed over, and I set the last dish down harder than I meant to.

At the table, Chloe pushed her food around and finally set her fork down. "Vivi, why is everything so salty?"

I lowered my head to hide my smile. Of course — I'd emptied an entire packet of salt into her portion.

"Must have gotten heavy-handed." I ate the one unsalted vegetable on my own plate and didn't apologize.

"I think it's very good," Nathaniel said loyally, the way you'd praise a child's drawing. Then, to Chloe: "Vivi's always been good at taking care of people. It's what she does best."

Chloe pouted, one hand drifting to her stomach without thinking. "The baby can't even—"

"Chloe." His voice stayed light, but something in it closed like a door. He turned back to me with an easy smile. "Her sister's expecting. She's been obsessed with nurseries for weeks — you should hear her talk about cribs. It's rubbed off on her."

I looked at him — at how smoothly the lie came out, how practiced — and felt something inside me go quiet and clear, the way a bone finally sets.

The woman carrying my husband's child was sitting at my table, complaining my cooking was too salty, and he was explaining her belly away with her sister's name.

And he expected me to sit here and swallow it. That was the part I couldn't get past — he wasn't even being cruel on purpose. In his mind, this was how things worked. I stayed in this house, cooked these meals, asked no questions. A wife kept like furniture — useful, decorative, and too well-trained to wonder why another woman's perfume kept showing up on his coat.

A job title written on a marriage certificate that didn't even exist.

I set my fork down. "I'm full. Excuse me."

I didn't wait for a response.

Behind me, Chloe's voice pitched soft and wounded. "Nathan, I really can't eat this."

"I'll have something delivered," he said. "Wait here. I need to talk to Vivi about something."

I heard his footsteps behind me down the hall, and I was still deciding what I'd say to him when he stopped dead in the doorway of the closet.

I turned. He was standing very still, staring at the wide gaps where my clothes should have been, my empty side of the shelf, the missing luggage.

"Vivi." His voice had lost every ounce of its earlier warmth. "Where are your clothes? Where are your bags?"